A True Story: The earliest memory I can recall to mind is that of a cool, cleansing bath administered by a firm, but affectionate object followed by the most satisfying taste of thick, rich nourishment. These life giving nutrients were consumed in a soft, furry utopian environment full of other warm, wiggling bodies. With full tummies we peacefully fell into a delightful sleep in this plush and protected embrace continually breathing in the tranquil and familiar smell of the gentle being that lovingly nudged us towards all of this goodness. At this stage, sight was of no importance.
And then one day through a blurry haze at first that slowly grew clearer, my tiny eyelids parted giving way to our life sustaining source and selfless caregiver - my mama, Angel Rose.
Snow white with silky curls that encompassed her long, sleek body, Mama truly was a vision of heaven and the most wonderful sight for my little eyes to first behold. Three sisters and eight brothers who especially kept Mama quite busy, were my snuggling companions. The scrubbings continued over the next few weeks, but we no longer needed her prodding at meal time. No, that event had become an all out wrestling brawl as our ever growing litter contended for the food supply under Mama's large breed frame, and I was introduced to the art of survival.
Not long after this, we were each given our own bowls of warm puppy mash - I could tell this made Mama very happy. These yummy morsels were provided by our human parents, Mr. & Mrs Rose. When we weren't napping in a colossal pile inside of the Rose's garage or munching down our chow, we tussled in the soft grass beside the chicken coop, sometimes with the Rose Grandchildren while Mama stretched out in the summer sunshine. It seemed like the perfect life.
Other humans began to visit us. They possessed all kinds of assorted smells and asked the Rose's many questions about Mama and our Father whom I had never met, but only heard was "good stock, laid back, and from a working line." We were observed like specimens under a microscope and handled and tossed about like dough in a pizzeria as we passed through a myriad of hugs, kisses, cuddles, and an occasional squeal.
Then one day as we slept in the hospitality of a friendly sunbeam extending its warmth through the Roses front window, I was gently lifted from the top of our heap by a strong set of hands. They seemed similar to Mr. Rose's, but also familiar somehow. After watching me crawl around with my sleepy siblings for awhile and examining my small body, the human man belonging to the kind hands held me up in front of his tan and handsome face and smiled. "This is the one, Babe." "This is our girl."
He then carefully placed me into a set of small, soft hands that belonged to a human woman who immediately pulled me so close to her smooth denim shirt I could feel her heart beat. She was sitting on the wood floor in the Rose's living room caressing Mama's head as she slept. I didn't understand at the time, but it seemed like she and Mama already knew each other. For the first time, I began to sense painful emotions. Mama must have sensed them too because she kept extending her paw to the human woman like she was offering some sort of comfort to her.
In the days that followed Mama began to speak to each one of us alone. Some of my brothers said that they would be leaving soon to live at other farms - some were far away. I didn't know what to make of all of this. I didn't want to leave Mama and Rose Farm.
Then one morning after breakfast as we were chewing and tugging on our braided pieces of rope, Mama called me, "Butterfly, can you come here please?"
Shortly after I was born, Mrs. Rose gently scooped me up and looked under my tail. "Another girl, and how cute, the badger markings on her side are in the shape of a butterfly."
"Butterfly, do you remember the day the handsome human man and sad human woman visited with us in the Rose's living room?" "Yes, Mama." "They have a farm too - Healing Brook."
"I want to stay here with you, Mama." "I know, my love, but you were ordained for a greater purpose and a unique calling long ago by our Great Creator. You were born a Great Pyrenees Mountain Dog, a livestock guardian, carefully bred with protective internal instincts and a keen sense of discernment to help you in the work you were destined to perform."
I had been wondering what all those feelings and emotions were churning around inside of me.
"Healing Brook is my birth farm, Butterfly. I was born to the sad human woman's lead guardian and instructor - your grandmother, Natasha. She commanded their sheep fields. Not long after your birth this summer, my Mama Natasha passed away prematurely, and you have been chosen to take her place." "Mama, is that why the woman is so sad?" "Yes, baby."
"Your family is there, your three aunts, and your cousin Kisha, and your grandfather Atlas. They will all have a part in your training and will see to it that you grow into the strong guard girl you were meant to be. The road will not always be an easy one to travel, so remember who you are and never let go of my words. Hide them in your heart, do you understand?" "Yes, Mama."
"You will call your new human woman,
Maman. This is the name our ancestors in the Pyrenees Mountains of France respectfully used when referring to the human woman that they loved and served, and the tradition was continued when our descendants were brought from that country to America. Her handsome husband, your new man human, will be
Papa."
"And you will no longer be called Butterfly. Maman has given you a new name, the name
Shasta. It means natural beauty, majestic, and teacher - all qualities your grandmother Natasha possessed and displayed in her stewardship of Healing Brook."
I never forgot Mama's words, but they didn't alleviate the sadness that I felt at leaving Rose Farm.
A few days later as I tumbled around with my siblings that had not gone to their new farms yet, my nose began to detect a familiar smell in the air, and then suddenly the garage door flung open and Mrs. Rose came in with Maman, she had come to take me to Healing Brook with her two young farm helpers, Katie and Opal.
Katie immediately swept me up in her arms and cooed and cuddled and rocked me like a human baby dripping her pop cycle on top of my head while Opal engaged in the same activities with my brothers. Maman bent down and softly kissed my cheek, and then sat beside Mr. Rose talking and looking through papers.
"Okay girls, are you ready to take Shasta to her new home?" "Yes!!" Katie carried me out of the garage and sat me down on the ground, snapped something purple around my neck and then pulled me along with her. Maman came behind us and lifted me up into her arms and buried her face deep into my fur.
I was so caught up in the excitement that I didn't see Mama standing in the tall grass beside Mrs. Rose. A gentle breeze was swirling the long stalks of hay and wild flowers all around them, and it was as if Mama was saying, "Go now, Shasta, be strong and stand beside your Maman and her farm as your French ancestors did before you."
Mr. Rose snapped a photo of us as was his custom with all new puppy families. Katie held me tight on her lap in the passenger seat, and Maman smiled at me through teary eyes as she drove along the back country roads.
"Wow! I think Shasta is doing so well, we should grab some lunch and take her on a picnic. What do you think, girls?" Katie and Opal erupted into loud affirmative shouts at Maman's inquiry.
After a full day, we at last reached our destination, Healing Brook. It all felt so uncannily like home.
"Okay, Puppy Girl, time to meet your family," Maman carried me inside her small cabin; a big white dog like Mama was sleeping on the rug in her living room. "Shasta, meet your Aunt Misha." Aunt Misha slowly rose from her napping and began smelling me all over. She was bigger than Mama and her face was more of a rectangular shape with longer jowls. Oh, but she had Mama's same sweet spirit.
Aunt Misha was Maman's companion Pyrenees. She rode in the ATV with Maman and went everywhere with her. During the day, Aunt Misha guarded Maman's cabin and the hay fields that surrounded it, and at night when she was "off duty", she stretched her big body across a zebra print comforter near the coffee table while Grand Paw worked the territory.
For my first two weeks when Maman said I was too little to stay in the barn at night, I curled up beside Aunt Misha at bedtime and sometimes I wrapped myself in her furry, plush tail. I loved Aunt Misha immediately.
Next Maman carried me out onto the porch and said that it was time to meet my grandfather, Atlas. "Jeepers, Creepers!" Grand Paw was huge! He was sleeping in a dug out under one of the hydrangea bushes that surrounded Maman's covered porch. He lazily lifted up and sniffed me awhile before collapsing back into the dirt and mulch. Papa never allowed visitors to bring their pet dogs to the farm on account of Great Pyrenees being so protective, but they usually accept one of their own he would always say.
Whenever I crawled up on Grand Paw's enormous body it was like I was climbing a big fluffy mountain, and his head was so wide I could sit on top of it. He was kind and gentle, but didn't like for me to mess with him while he was sleeping or to be anywhere near his food bowl. He would let out a grouchy roar that could be heard two counties over. As long as I obeyed those two rules, Grand Paw and I were good. When Grand Paw was near, I felt incredibly safe.
Maman jumped into her ATV and then reached down and swung me across her lap. When she started the engine, Aunt Misha pushed her way through the passenger area, and Maman leaned over me to pull Misha's long tail inside before closing the door. I loved Maman's smell.
"We're headed to the barn, Baby Girl, to meet the rest of the gang." The gravel road was bumpy as we made our way through the hay fields and then along side of a creek that sparkled like diamonds when the sun rays bounced off of it. The muddy bank was filled with rocks and sticks and looked like a great place for a little white puppy to play.
From a distance as we approached the barn, I saw another Great Pyrenees barking and running towards us. Maman informed me it was Aunt Kia; she seemed to hop more than she ran resembling a monstrous bunny rabbit. She had big round eyes, beautiful feathering that swooped down the back of her legs, and hair that stood straight up in the trendiest style. I thought Aunt Kia looked great for her age.
Aunt Kia was an "Unsocialized Pyrenees" meaning she only let Maman and Papa and all the critters near her, distancing herself and barking at all others. Papa said that Maman needed at least one Pyrenees like her. Kia's territory was the barn and surrounding fields where Maman's barn kitties and goats lived and also any new calves. Like her sister Misha, Kia took her responsibility seriously.
When I was old enough to stay in the barn at night, I could hear Aunt Kia encircling my stall. Coyotes would howl through the darkness, but Aunt Kia stood her ground at the opening of the woods issuing them a stern warning. Sometimes I felt lonely as I fell into my slumber, but I never felt afraid. Aunt Kia made sure of that.
"Come on Shasta, let's walk down to the sheep field." I followed Maman and Kia along strands of fencing that encompassed the strangest creatures. Four legged and wooly haired with curvy, sharp hard things growing out of their heads, some were small but others were as big as Grand Paw. I sensed Maman loved them, and this feeling seemed to make me love them too.
At the entrance, Maman reached down and lifted me up into her arms before she unlatched the gate. She took a deep breath, and slowly walked through into the green, grassy field where the creatures she loved called home, but I felt a new emotion coming from Maman, not a good one either. I learned later it was fear, and it caused my little body to shiver. I didn't like Maman being afraid.
"Time to meet your Aunt Nicky, Shasta." At the far end of the meadow I could see another Pyrenees slowly prowling around by a trickling brook that meandered its way through the field. Aunt Nicky was wide and stocky with a thick mane encircling her neck; her appearance resembled the King of the Jungle more than a Great Pyrenees. Maman cupped one of her hands by her mouth while struggling to hold me with the other, "Come here, Nic!"
Aunt Nicky took her good ol' time. When she finally approached us, Maman held me out to her with trembling hands. "This is your niece, Nicky." Aunt Nicky smelled all over my body several times with her big box nose; I could feel Maman's fear grow to an intense level. After what seemed like forever and a day, I must have passed her specifications because Aunt Nicky slunk off towards a nearby locust tree and plopped down under its shade.
Maman released her breath. She turned me around in her arms and looked squarely into my eyes. "Shasta, you mind your manners around Aunt Nicky. This is her field now, and believe me when I say she runs a tight ship."
Maman, way more relaxed now, placed me down into the underbrush and began climbing a steep hill graced in daisies and dense iron weed. It was everything I could do to keep up with her, lush stems and leaves soaking my face as I lunged ahead through the thick foliage before plunging into a sunlit ridge filled with more of the creatures Maman called "sheep" and what seemed like hundreds of chickens similar to the ones at Rose Farm scattered throughout the hillside and surrounded by breathtaking, misty blue mountains. It seemed like the most peaceful and healing place in the world, and perched in the middle of all of this harmonious activity was my cousin Kisha.
Oh wow, Kisha was young and so pretty. She had brown ears like me with long flowing hair and dark smokey liner around her beautiful eyes. She was so cool; I remember thinking that when I grew up I wanted to be just like her. "Kisha, here's the surprise I've been promising. Meet Shasta your new partner."
Kisha sniffed me all over, but not like Aunt Nicky. It was more like a friendship greeting than an interrogation. Maman stood over us watching me and Kisha get acquainted. I could see tears spilling over onto her face. I later learned that Grandma Natasha had trained Kisha - her niece, Aunt Kia's daughter - and since Grandma's death Kisha had been heartbroken and lonely without her.
Maman walked towards her chicken sanctuary and unlatched the gate, "You're on training duty, Kisha, while I collect eggs." Kisha bent down towards me with her rear end up in the air and tapped her paws on the ground encouraging me to play with her. She was so good natured and sweet tempered.
I noticed a gash across Kisha's slender snout. "What happened to your nose?" "Aunt Nicky happened." "Oh Kisha, ouch, I'm so sorry." "It's okay, Maman always says that scars are badges of bravery; they mean you were stronger than what tried to hurt you. She says that I survived Aunt Nicky's tutoring, and should wear my guard girl stripe with pride."
We continued to tumble and roll, and when I was almost to the point of exhaustion, I flipped over landing on a level, dirt surface with some type of marker embedded in it. A sense of calm came over my whole body. "We can't walk on that, Shasta." "What is it?"
"That's where Papa dug the great and deep hole containing Natasha's body. Sometimes when Aunt Nicky and I miss her and feel lonely, we come here to visit."
I was just happy to know Aunt Nicky had a soft side. Since, I've heard Maman say that we should never judge until we slip on the boots, lace them up and trudge around in the mud and manure for awhile. Especially because we are all put together different bringing numerous life experiences to the field. And anyway Papa says that everyone has some sort of issue to deal with.
Once when I was old enough to stay in the sheep meadow during the day, I smelled something very unusual. Before I had a chance to follow my nose, a set of sharp teeth came out of nowhere ferociously snapping in front of my face. In a flash, the feisty beast was hurled through the air releasing a high pitch scream, as I was body slammed so hard it sent me skimming across the cow patties. The creature was a possum, and Aunt Nicky had saved my life. After this, I never looked at her the same. I knew Aunt Nicky really loved me, she just had a unique love language.
In the days and months that followed Mama word's rang true. Somedays at Healing Brook were Shangri-La, and I felt as if I had been here my whole life. I so loved Maman, and every passing day, I felt more and more protective of her and of the things she cherished. But sometimes I felt lonely still and missed Mama like one particular night when Aunt Nicky was bathing after a warm day, and Kisha was too busy chewing on her deer antlers to notice me. Maman seemed to be late picking me up from the sheep meadow in her ATV and returning me to my bed in the barn with Aunt Kia. She was having a party.
Maman had lots of parties at her cabin and always brought her guests down to visit us which we enjoyed to the fullest. All of the people called Maman
Rebecca except for Papa. He called her
Babe unless he was angry or couldn't find something that he was looking for.
But tonight Maman seemed especially late. I decided to wander over to the sacred dirt spot where Kisha said she went when she felt sad. I stretched out across the soft earth under a brilliant September sky dazzled with stars and bright planets and accompanied by the crescent moon. Kisha was right; It was peaceful.
Then my fur began to prickle and stand on end, I thought I heard Maman call to me, but I didn't see her or hear the roar of her engine pull up to the gate. Aunt Nicky was still soaking in the brook, and Kisha was engrossed in her gnawing.
"Shasta," the voice seemed to flow out of the breeze and swirl along side of the fireflies dancing around me. It sounded similar to Mama's but wiser and more mature. At once I knew. "Grandma, is that you?"
"Yes, Shasta. You're growing into such a strong guard girl and have done so much for your young age. You've brought healing back into Maman's life." "I have?" "The hardest day I ever experienced on earth was the day I had to leave her, but that was not my decision or hers. We belong to our Great Creator, and He alone holds our time in his capable hands. We must trust him as the author of our existence and with all of life's questions and pain as we continually serve His purposes. You have taken up residence in Maman's heart and replenished her joy; I'm proud of you, Shasta. You must instruct others to do the same."
"I will, Grandma Natasha, I promise."
Suddenly, the bright headlights of Maman's ATV shot across the field illuminating the foggy air. I heard Aunt Kia sloshing through the mud puddles to meet her and the familiar sound of the chain clanking against the fence as Maman swung open the gate. I inhaled Maman's tender scent. I could see her smiling at me through the darkness as she approached with my leash slung over her shoulder since I had become too big for her to carry.
But I've gotten ahead of myself in the story. Back to my first night at Healing Brook:
After I had met my family and all the critters that evening, Maman drove me and Aunt Misha back to the house where I was blessed with a warm bowl of puppy mash covered in bone broth and a farm egg. Grand Paw slowly rose from the living room rug and yawned and stretched before sleepily heading out the back door to work the night shift. Maman led me outside to "do my business" and then tucked me into bed on the corner of Aunt Misha's comforter.
In the middle of the night, I was awakened suddenly; it didn't seem to be Grand Paw's distant barking or Aunt Misha's snoring that startled me. It was something else, a feeling. I scampered into Maman's room and sat by her bed. "Come here, Shasta," Maman reached over the side with both hands and strained to lift me up with her. "This totally goes against the rules in my Livestock Guardian Manual, but just this once won't hurt. And besides it's your first night away from Rose Farm." She wrapped me inside of her warm covers snuggling so close I could feel her heart beat again. Only this time joy had replaced her pain.
This is probably not THE END of Shasta's story..........
The dogs' names have not been changed to protect their identities. They can do that themselves.
Update August 2018: It has been one year since Maman brought me to Healing Brook. Aunt Nicky found her footing after Grandma Natasha's death and she took control as Captain of the sheep meadow. Even though Kisha and I are cousins, we have also grown into the best friends ever. We work under Aunt Nicky as her skippers spending our days lazily snoozing under the great cedars, sloshing in the cool creek, and play fighting together. At night, we work our shift as guarding partners protecting the sheep and chicken from coyote and other predators. Recently Papa has added to our responsibilities by moving his young steers into our field once they are weaned from the barnyard and until they are ready for the big cow field.
In addition to all of these activities, I have been introduced to small humans who visit the farm regularly. Maman calls them
children. They hug me and pet me and bury their small faces in my fur and kiss me. Some of them even ride me like a miniature pony. Maman laughs and says that she's going to get a saddle for me. I love children.
My favorite part of the day is in the morning and evening when Maman comes in our field and walks with us through our cozy patch of woods and back to the watering hole. Sometimes the sheep walk with us and a few cats and chickens. Sometimes Maman carries her grooming rake and brushes us along the way. She always has treats in her pockets. Always before Maman leaves the field and after she's dished up our yummy meal bowls, she bends down to each of us and praises our work. "I could never do this without you beautiful girls, you're the absolute best."
I still think about Mama and Rose Farm sometimes, but it isn't a sad thought. I never did forget Mama's words - I hid them in my heart just like she said to. And Mama was right - Our Great Creator did have a special purpose for me, just like He does for all of his beautiful creatures.
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This is Shasta on the right May 2025 - almost 8 years old. Kisha is in the lower left - now over 10 years old. That's Shasta's younger cousin Aslan under the Farmer's nose. Shasta and Atlas trained Skipper another cousin in late 2018 and then Aslan when I brought him home in 2022 as a young pup. Atlas passed away a year and a half later in 2023. Misha and Kia both died in 2020 and Nicky in 2022. I retired Shasta from the sheep field a couple of years ago and turned them over to Skipper. I brought Shasta to the house to protect the surrounding fields containing all of the poultry and water fowl. She continues to guard Healing Brook like nobody's business.
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| Shasta and her Maman |
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| Grandma Natasha, "Queen of the Meadow" |
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| Angel Rose and Maman |
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| Shasta - three weeks old |
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| Angel Rose with one of her boys and Shasta - six weeks old |
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| Kisha |
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| Shasta and Aunt Misha |
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| Grand Paw Atlas and Shasta |
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| Aunt Nicky |
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| Aunt Nicky |
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| Shasta familiarizes herself with their smell during her first lambing season |
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| She loves her treats |
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| Shasta and Papa |
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| Shasta and Maman |
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| Shasta goes to school with Katie and Opal |
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| Shasta and Parker and Delaney |
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| Shasta and Katie in the Rose's garage |
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| Rose Farm - Shasta's birth home |
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| Such a beauty |
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| As a pup, she rode on my lap in the ATV, now she rides shotgun. |
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| Aunt Kia |
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| Shasta and Kisha - cousins, partners, and BFFs |
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| Shasta, Nicky, and Misha working the field |
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| She loves children and protects them like her lambs |
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| Shasta today |
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| This is Shasta on the right May 2025 - almost 8 years old. Kisha is in the lower left - now over 10 years old. That's Shasta's younger cousin Aslan under the Farmer's nose. Shasta and Atlas trained Skipper another cousin in late 2018 and then Aslan when I brought him home in 2022 as a young pup. Atlas passed away a year and a half later in 2023. Misha and Kia both died in 2020 and Nicky in 2022. Shasta continues to guard Healing Brook like nobody's business. |
